


Girl Talk

by Greyias



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Adult Themes, F/M, Humor, Sexual Humor, The Skytrooper Helmet Incident, somewhat cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21654310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greyias/pseuds/Greyias
Summary: There’s something really strange happening on Odessen -- Theron just can’t figure out what.
Relationships: Female Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython/Theron Shan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	Girl Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Written at the request of my dear friends, Jayde and Aearyn, who needed the story behind The Skytrooper Helmet Incident mentioned in one of my other stories: [Art of Disguise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9661163). Also, a very special thank you goes out to my pal Hedgie, for cheerleading and giving it a once over.
> 
> After some consideration, I'm leaving the rating at "T", but will warn that the subject matter is more adult in nature. So please take heed.

There was something strange happening on Odessen. Theron Shan just couldn’t put his finger on exactly _what_ it was.

His first clue was an overheard conversation in the cantina. He hadn’t _meant_ to be eavesdropping — but his request for one finger of whiskey on the rocks was stacked behind an entire pitcher of the blue tropical drinks that Tora and Len had ordered for all of Koth’s crew — and at this point it was almost second nature to try and follow the conversation around him. Old habits died hard and all that.

He wasn’t sure if Kaliyo Djannis was trying to keep her conversation with the Alliance’s commander quiet, but even from the distance he was able to pick out a few key words and phrases. Something about Doc and satisfaction? Even if he didn’t have the specifics, Theron could tell that whatever Kaliyo was saying was hitting some sort of nerve with the Jedi she was conversing with. Even from the distance it was clear that Grey’s face was turning brighter and brighter shades of red.

In general, Theron wasn’t really a big fan of Kaliyo, as the Rattataki was a major wild card and not exactly the most trustworthy of characters. But beggars couldn’t be choosers when it came to recruiting talent for the Alliance, and she was effective at what she did. It was why he had suggested her in the first place—but it was one thing for her to use her skillset as a weapon pointed at Zakuul. It was something else entirely when she started messing with the Commander’s head.

When Grey’s expression went from mildly embarrassed to mortified, without even realizing it he’d found himself leaving his perch at the bar and crossing the room.

“It’s something you should keep in mind,” Kaliyo said as he got into earshot, “that’s all I’m saying.”

“And what exactly should we be keeping in mind?” Theron asked, trying to keep his tone light, but there was still an edge to it.

Grey startled at his appearance, and the moment she met his eye seemed to somehow flush an even darker shade before quickly mumbling something and slipping off. Momentarily forgetting about the grinning Rattataki, he caught his girlfriend’s arm and leaned in close.

“Hey,” he asked quietly, “what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” she insisted, refusing to meet his eye as she expertly slipped out of his grip and disappeared into the crowd with a practiced ease that almost made him jealous.

He whirled around on Kaliyo, who had just watched the exchange with an air of amusement. “What the hell was that about?”

She just shrugged. “Just a little harmless girl talk.”

“I know you’re used to stirring things up just because you get bored easily.” Theron crossed his arms. “But while you’re here on this base, I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

“I don’t know if you _really_ want that,” Kaliyo smirked.

“Let me rephrase that then: keep your nose clean. And leave my people alone.”

“Your people? Or just your girlfriend?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your girlfriend. You know, the Jedi. Sweet kid. Hilariously naive. The one you tried to swoop in and save from a little harmless teasing.”

“I think you’ve got the wrong idea. It’s not like that between us.”

Okay, that was a lie. But things were already hectic enough on Odessen for both him and Grey without the complication of dealing with everyone whispering about their after hours activities. And like hell he was going to give a former Imperial Intelligence operative any sort of weakness to exploit. No matter how long it had been since she’d worked for them.

Kaliyo snorted and threw back the last dregs of her drink, rising to her feet. “Whatever you want to tell yourself, Spyboy. But just so you know, I’m an expert on body language—and you two? Aren’t fooling anybody.”

“And you’re trying to change the subject.” He ignored the deliberate bait, refusing to be pulled into a verbal sparring match just for her amusement. “Don’t think that I’m not going to be keeping a very close eye on you.”

She gave a sharp laugh as she started to walk away. “Hopefully not too close. Can’t tell if your Jedi is the jealous type.”

Theron had glared at her departing back, completely forgetting about the drink he’d ordered. But he couldn’t get the conversation out of his mind, and the next time he’d found Grey he’d tried to broach the subject.

“About earlier, with Kaliyo,” he’d tried to say, but she held up a hand.

“It was nothing serious. Do not worry about it,” she insisted.

He wasn’t sure how to take that, because at the time it certainly hadn’t _looked_ like nothing. “Are you sure?”

She didn’t quite look him in the eye, but summoned a smile that wasn’t _un_ convincing. It just wasn’t convincing either. “Of course.”

“All right,” he said dubiously. “Just don’t let her get in your head.”

“I won’t,” she assured him. “I have enough company in there as it is.”

He made a face at the reminder of the ghost that was currently residing in her skull. “Point taken.”

And so he let it drop. Not because she had made a compelling argument or anything, but because this was all still too new to him. Normally when something was amiss, he’d just investigate, push and prod until he got his answers. But here there were boundaries. Invisible, intangible things that if he wasn’t careful where he stepped, he might break this thing between them. And that was the last thing he wanted.

Besides. She said everything was fine. There was no reason for her to lie about something like that.

He was just being paranoid.

* * *

At least that’s what he had thought until he’d walked into the cantina a few days later, as he discovered his second clue that something was amiss. That clue being his girlfriend huddling at a table in the far corner with Hylo Visz discussing something serious. At least he thought it was serious, until the Mirialan smuggler grinned, and the Jedi’s cheeks tinged pink. Theron frowned, watching as the older woman leaned in to whisper something that made Grey’s eyes widen almost comically. 

From the distance, he couldn’t read either of their lips to know what the topic of discussion was, just that whatever the Jedi asked next made Hylo give her a wink, and made some vague gesture with her hands that he knew he’d seen _somewhere_ but couldn’t place it at the moment. Grey apparently seemed to understand it’s meaning though as she shook her head vehemently and physically shoved Hylo’s hands back to the table.

Okay. That was definitely weird.

He tried to get closer to see if he could pick up what the women were talking about, watching as Grey turned beet red as the smuggler continued to talk, undeterred. As she continued to speak, the Jedi covered her face with her hands.

Just as he was wondering what the hell was going on, Hylo spotted him. She flashed him a wide, knowing smile and waved him over. Grey seemed to deflate at this, raising her hood up and laying her head down on the table as if she wanted to disappear.

“Um, hi,” Theron said awkwardly as he walked up.

“Hello yourself, tiger.” The shit-eating grin that Hylo shot him only set him on edge.

“So,” he continued, drawing the one word out so it was three syllables, “what are you two talking about?”

“Just this and that,” Hylo said vaguely, still grinning.

“Sounds _fascinating_.”

“Oh, it _is_.”

Theron looked down at the Jedi who was unsuccessfully trying to blend into the table. “You okay there?”

The lump of Jedi made a noncommittal noise that he thought was supposed to have been a “yes”, but it was so muffled he really couldn’t tell. He narrowed an eyebrow, looking back at Hylo questioningly.

“All this talking has made me thirsty,” she said. Which was definitely not an answer. “Theron, why don’t you go grab us a round?”

“I just got here,” he said sourly.

“And new guy buys the drinks, you know the rules.”

“We’re not on your ship, Hylo.”

She leveled him with a look that said the suggestion was anything but, and he wrinkled his nose in annoyance. There was really no point in arguing with her about this. And at least with a little alcohol in their system maybe everyone would stop acting so weird and actually _talk_. “Fine.”

He let his hand briefly drift down to the hooded figure on the table, but stopped short, hanging awkwardly as he realized they were out in the open. They hadn’t really discussed how public or private they wanted to keep things. And apparently the rumor mill was already swirling if Kaliyo was anything to go by. 

“I’ll be right back,” he said, letting the statement be directed to the table as a whole. Although he really meant it for the embarrassed Jedi.

Theron tried to ignore that lingering discomfort, and instead quickly ordered a bottle of Corellian’s finest for him and Hylo, and hesitated on what to get for Grey since she hadn’t really said anything. He could get her whatever fruity monstrosity of a cocktail the cantina was serving today, which would at least be alcoholic. Or he could go with a known favorite. After a moment’s debate, he ordered a large, steaming mug of caf, and lugged it and the bottle back to the table.

Only to find it missing one Jedi. Hylo flashed him a sympathetic look as he set the bottle and the mug down with a little more force than necessary.

“Okay,” this time his tone wasn’t gentle as he flopped into a chair next to her, “what’s going on?”

Hylo sighed and grabbed the bottle and poured out two glasses. “Just a little girl talk.”

“Lot of that going around.”

“Hey, girls have to talk sometimes,” she said lightly, but shoved a glass in his hand. 

He accepted it, taking a large swig before leveling her with a look. “You talk about anything specific?”

“Yep.” Hylo took a slow sip before setting the glass down and looking Theron in the eye. “She’s a good kid. I like her.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I kind of guessed that back on Nar Shaddaa,” Hylo said with the hints of a a sad smile. 

Theron unconsciously winced at the memory of when he and the smuggler had first met. He didn’t really like to think about that too much. Not just the mission he’d been on the time, but everything that had happened between Ziost and prior to his arrival on Odessen. He hadn’t exactly been in the best place at the time. Better to focus on the present — and whatever the hell was going on.

“Look, no relationship is perfect,” she said after a moment, “you have to work at it. Things are a give and take, you know?”

“We’re not in a—”

That just prompted an eye roll and Hylo doling out two more very liberal pours. “You are _impossible_ , you know that.”

Theron wrinkled his nose, but didn’t shove the glass away. “I’ve been told that a time or two. Although usually it’s my boss chewing me out. Not sure what I’ve done _this_ time to earn it.”

“I’m not chewing you out.” Hylo exhaled heavily through her nose, clearly trying to gather her patience. “And not everything is about _you_.”

He pursed his lips as he bit back on the retort that it certainly _seemed_ to be about him, considering his girlfriend had started to disappear whenever he came around. His eyes drifted to the still steaming mug of caf, and the empty seat at the table. He had to have done _something_ to prompt whatever this was, although for the life of him he couldn’t think of what it was. 

“Look, Theron,” Hylo said, voice softening a touch, “I know you’re a worrier, but it’ll be fine.”

“I don’t _worry_ ,” he scoffed.

“Sure, big guy,” she said as she poured him another round, “just keep telling yourself that.”

* * *

Theron did his best to try and put the whole oddness out of his mind. But like Hylo had said, he was a worrier. It was just in his nature to chew on a problem until it grew stale and tasteless. If something didn’t add up, he just had to keep digging, until he found the root issue. It was a quality that served him well at the SIS and made him an excellent agent. Not so much on the relationship front. 

Although he wasn’t sure that any of the romantic entanglements quite met the definition of that term before he’d met one very frustrating, odd, and wonderful Jedi. A Jedi who he was _certain_ wasn’t hiding something — mostly because to hide something, a person had to make an attempt to conceal their behavior. And either Grey had never learned the art of subterfuge or didn’t realize that her face turned the shade of wasaka berries whenever she saw him. Maybe both. And whatever conversation she was having seemed to dry up the moment he walked into a room.

Which was just odd. Although not as odd as when Koth playfully slugged him on the shoulder and waggled his eyebrows as if he were on the inside of some sort of salacious information. Theron had just stared back at the Zakuulan in honest befuddlement as the fluttering of a cape in his peripheral vision let him know that the Alliance Commander was once again making a quick exit. 

When Koth had been pressed on exactly what he was going on about, the man seemed to come to some sort of realization and had clammed up, stammering something about “girl talk”. Not even pointing out that he was, in fact, male, seemed to sway him.

“It takes all types,” Koth had just muttered as he conveniently had found something else to do.

After an entire day of this nonsense, he’d had enough, and decided to catch Grey in her quarters, where, in theory at least, she’d have a hard time mysteriously disappearing.

“HK-55,” Theron nodded a greeting to the droid standing guard at her door. “Is the Commander in?”

“Affirmative: The Commander is in her quarters, Master Shan,” the droid intoned, “but perhaps now is not the best time for one of your courting rituals.”

“We’re not—” Theron started and then decided to give up. No point in arguing with a droid that saw his nightly comings and goings. “Never mind. Can I go in? It’s kind of important.”

“Observation: You seem to have important business here with great frequency. Mostly in the evenings.”

“I’m not here _every_ night,” he protested. “I wasn’t here yesterday at all.”

“Clarification: Your attendance record is not in dispute.”

“Whatever. Can I go in?”

“Sarcasm: As my master has granted you unlimited access to her quarters, my programming cannot deny you entry.” Ugh. Droid humor. “Suggestion: You might have more success if you tried a later time, when she is not having one of her one-sided arguments.”

It took a moment for Theron to realize the implication of the odd statement. His girlfriend had many quirks, and talking to thin air was one of the newer ones—specifically one that had started up after she’d picked up a stowaway Force ghost that refused to go away. 

“Valkorion,” he practically growled the name, and surged past the assassin droid turned bodyguard. The former Sith Emperor was a touchy subject with the Alliance Commander, but Theron understood why. Perhaps more than anyone else on the base with maybe the exception of Grey’s little astromech, T7-01. It _was_ possible the parasite was responsible for the odd behavior he’d observed. Although usually she confided in him when Valkorion was starting to play his mind games, not—

“I do not want to discuss this with you,” Grey’s voice was strained.

Theron startled, feet stilling at first thinking the statement was meant for him. However her back was turned to him, and she was gesticulating to an empty space in front of her. If anyone had walked in to the room without knowledge of her unwanted poltergeist, they’d probably have second thoughts about the leader of the Alliance. For Theron, though, this was just starting to become a normal sight. Although usually when she spoke to Valkorion, her voice didn’t sound so… high-pitched. And her ears were not usually that bright a shade of pink.

“ _Why_ would I want to talk about _this,_ of all things, with you?” Her voice cracked, almost comically. “Of course I’d ask someone else, literally anyone else than you — this is not any of your business!”

She paused, apparently listening to whatever witty retort the invisible presence in the room had to say.

“You are _not_ an unfortunate party in any of this — _you_ decided to haunt _me_! Not the other way around!” There were a few more moments of silence before she added, “This is not open for discussion.”

Another pause.

“Well, for starters, you are not a girl, so we can’t have ‘girl talk’.”

Oh come _on!_ Really? Valkorion too? This was getting ridiculous. 

“Yes, I’m quite aware that Koth is technically a male, but he’s also corporeal and not an evil world devourer, so. His opinion counts more than yours.” She let out an annoyed huff in what was otherwise silence. Although maybe it was less silent on her end of things. “Look. I was just trying to get a little advice from someone who actually knows something about—no! I do _not_ need your input on this.”

There was a long silence as the Jedi in question went almost deathly still. Theron wondered if this would be a good moment to cut in, because he was starting to get more than a little concerned, especially when she let out a startled. “No! Ew!”

His mouth had just started to open, when she continued on. 

“Why would you tell me that? Oh Force, no… just stop—stop talking!” She covered her ears, like a stubborn child trying to block out an adult’s lecture. “I can’t hear you, la la la!”

There was a part of Theron that was morbidly curious about the other half of that conversation, but considering the over-the-top reaction he was witnessing… perhaps it was for the best he was in the dark. As it was, he just stood there dumbly, practically rooted to the spot. Usually his eavesdropping was purely intentional, or part of a bad habit he couldn’t break after years of doing it professionally. Intentional or not, the end result was the same, and as Grey spun around, her eyes widened even further, cheeks flaming firebud red.

“Um,” she squeaked uncertainly, “hi.”

“Are you,” he seemed just as lost as her for words, “are you okay?”

She gave him the most pained, unconvincing smile he’d ever seen in his entire career of spycraft. “Yep!”

“Because you… um. That seemed a little…”

“Yeah,” she shifted uncomfortably, “I was just… having a difference of opinion with the voice in my head.”

“Yeah, I got that,” he said after a moment, “although usually it’s a little less…” He gestured vaguely as he struggled to come up with a polite way to phrase what he’d just witnessed, and then gave up. “ _That_.”

It was the wrong thing to say, because she somehow flushed further. Damn it. This entire encounter was not in the boyfriend handbook. Not that such a thing existed, because he _really_ could have used one. In general, but right about now he would not be opposed to a user’s guide or manual.

“Bad choice of words,” he muttered, “look, I’m just a little—”

She closed her eyes, frustration clearly mounting on her face before her head turned to address the empty air next to her. “We weren’t talking to you!”

Theron blinked once. Twice. Maybe he should have listened to the droid.

When Grey turned back to face him, the intense color in her cheeks had not faded in the slightest, but now her brow was creased in an expression of genuine contrition. Damn it. He hated when she looked at him like that. 

“So… now isn’t the best time? Talk later?”

“Yeah. Yeah sure.”

Trained in the art of deception, Theron was able to keep his tone fairly neutral. Although if he were being honest with himself, he wasn’t sure if he was relieved to get out of the awkward situation, a touch concerned with what he had just witnessed, or a little rejected at being asked to leave. Maybe a combination of all three.

He kept his head held high as he walked back out into the hall, only to be greeted by an overly cheery metallic voice. “Mockery: I told you so.”

“Oh—shut up!”

* * *

The next day during the morning briefing, Theron had briefly thought he’d found a compatriot in whatever this bizarre new behavior was, as Grey couldn’t seem to look Senya in the eye the entire time. That comforting illusion had lasted only a scant hour, until he’d accidentally overheard the two women talking in hushed voices after the meeting.

Grey still couldn’t quite look at Senya directly, but she did seem genuinely contrite. “I’m sorry, I just… _know_ more than I ever wanted to about—”

He missed whatever that tantalizing bit of information was, Lana elbowing him sharply to gain his attention on some report about like, the galaxy being burned by a tyrant. Right. Right. Work.

When he happened upon Senya afterwards and had asked about what had been going on, the older woman had just flushed a deep scarlet color and muttered Theron’s least favorite two words. “Girl talk.”

* * *

This was Theron’s life now. Walking into a room, hearing the first part of a conversation before it suddenly grinding to a sudden halt and at least one of the occupants bolting like his mere presence had set her on fire. Just like later that afternoon when he’d walked into the War Room:

“Hey, Lana, could I ask you a question?”

“Yes, Commander?”

“It’s… a little personal.”

“What seems to be the matter?”

“Well, it’s just—” Whatever she was about to say ended in a lurch as she caught sight of him, eyes widening almost comically as her ears seemed to practically glow pink. “Never mind!”

She stammered out another quick apology and some excuse, before once again like the elusive wind, she was gone. Theron managed to contain his heavy sigh, but not his frustration as Lana just arched one delicate brow at the whole bizarre exchange.

“What was that about?” he asked. “More ‘girl talk’?”

“I have no idea,” Lana said flatly, “and quite frankly, I’m fairly certain I don’t want to unless it somehow will win us this war against Arcann.”

“Pretty sure it won’t.”

“Then it’s probably not all that important, don’t you think?”

“ _Right_ ,” Theron said, getting a brief sense of deja vu of him saying something similar years and years ago back at the Heorum Complex to some of his coworkers talking about their personal lives, but in regards to the Empire. 

Oh. Is that how that felt? 

Lana didn’t bother to disguise her eye roll as she pointedly returned to the readout on the datapad in front of her. On one hand, it was refreshing that _someone_ wasn’t involved in this nonsense, on the other hand… he’d kind of wanted just a _little_ information. A curious robotic whistle had him looking down at the little astromech who had also witnessed the entire exchange.

“Do _you_ have any idea what’s going on?”

Teeseven just let out a sad series of beeps that even those who didn’t understand binary could easily decipher.

“I know, buddy. Me too.”

* * *

With the way the past few days had gone, Theron was almost convinced that nothing could surprise him anymore. Almost, but not completely — only a fool would not expect the unexpected. So it was with a little trepidation that Theron waited at the threshold of the Commander’s quarters that evening.

“Sarcasm: Master Shan, what a surprise to find you here in the evening hours again.”

“Can it, droid. I was invited.”

“Query: Then why have you not entered?”

Theron glanced down at the datapad he was still clutching with the note requesting his presence, and then at the closed door in front of him. “You haven’t heard any… one-sided arguments again, have you?”

“Clarification: I have not, but I do not make a habit of eavesdropping on my master’s affairs. I leave that in the hands of trained professionals like yourself.”

“You know… sometimes a simple yes or no can suffice.”

“Mockery: But where is the fun in that? We must take our joys where we find them.”

“You know what, I’m going inside, if only to get away from this conversation.”

“Triumph: Mission accomplished—”

The rest of the bodyguard droid’s sarcastic quip was lost as the door slid shut. Served him right.

Out of habit, Theron glanced around the room in a seemingly casual manner. Nothing was out of place that he could see. There was still a mountain of datapads stacked on the desk in the corner. The decanter on the table in the seating area was still filled with premium-grade alcohol, but seemed a little emptier than his last visit. And the canvas hung artfully overhead diffused the lighting that had been installed into the high rock ceilings. In fact, only one thing was out of place: the room was empty.

“Uh,” he called out hesitantly, “did I get the wrong time?”

“Sorry, I’m just—give me a minute!” came the muffled reply from the refresher. “Just… take a seat. I’ll be right out.”

_O-kay_ …

With a little hesitation, Theron did as he was told. While there was not a lack of places to lounge in the Commander’s quarters, the couch was one of the more comfortable spots. It also had a good view of the door to the refresher, although he wasn’t aware that he’d _needed_ one until his girlfriend emerged through the door. 

At least… he _thought_ it was his girlfriend.

SIS training was supposed to prepare its agents to take anything in stride. In the field, things could go sideways in an instant. If you were caught off guard and unable to adapt, then the mission could result in failure — or worse. So, in theory, Theron should have been prepared for the sight that greeted him.

He was, quite simply, not. 

Partially because was still trying to figure out what he was looking at. The Alliance Commander, or at least, the figure he assumed to be her was currently sauntering towards him in a… very interesting getup? She was decked out in what looked like some variation on the skimpy outfits that cantina dancers around the galaxy liked to wear, but had added a spiked leather jacket with matching collar, and a frilly apron that seemed to be from some different outfit altogether. Perhaps separately, along with the rest of the coordinating ensemble, these items would have looked appealing, and maybe even sexy if someone were into those particular things. Together they just looked bizarre. But somehow that wasn’t the weirdest thing he was looking at.

No. That would be the fact that Grey seemed to have found out a hollowed-out, modified Skytrooper helmet, and was currently wearing it on top of her head.

The question of “what are you _wearing_?” was what he had meant to ask, instead, all that came out of his throat was a very confused, almost distressed whine that would have been mortifying in any other situation. Right now though it seemed justified. Especially after the saunter transformed into some sort of spastic gyrations as she approached — wait. Was that supposed to be a seductive dance? Oh. Oh no.

“Um,” he finally managed to get his throat to form something more audible than a croak, “what’s happening… right now?”

She practically slid down the banister separating the two levels of the room. “The wildest night of your life.”

That. Did seem accurate. In a sense. “Um.”

Like many helmets, the Skytrooper one had a vocal enhancer installed. They were meant to help the wearer be able to communicate, but also had a tendency to make voices sound deep, robotic, and a little bit artificial. “I know you’ve been thinking about this all day.”

It was _very_ disconcerting to hear her voice distorted in this context. And if he were being honest, more than a little intimidating.

“I _really_ haven’t.” Theron didn’t know his voice could climb to that particular octave. He was learning all sorts of things tonight.

Grey finished closing the distance between them, apparently abandoning the not-so-sexy dance in favor of a saunter that made his pulse quicken, and not in a good way. “Would you like to purchase some of this fine produce, kind sir?”

“…what?”

“It’s ripe and freshly picked off the vine.”

“Please stop.”

“Oh, sorry. Is this not right?” Even if he couldn’t see her brow furrow behind the metallic monstrosity she was wearing on her head, he could still hear it in her deeply distorted voice. “I can do something different if you’d like.”

“Like stopping?”

“If that’s what you want,” the bizarre Skytrooperesque monstrosity cleverly disguised as his girlfriend intoned in its deep, robotic boom.

“Please take that thing off.”

There was a few moments of hesitation before Grey removed the helmet and sat down heavily next to him on the couch. “Oh thank the Force—that thing is not meant to be worn on a human head.”

“Where did you even _get_ this?” He asked, rolling the modified helmet in his hands. “You know—that’s probably not the first question I should be asking right now.”

Her brows drew together in an almost exaggerated expression of contrition. “I’m sorry. I’m not _good_ at this.”

“Being a Skytrooper?” Theron set the helmet aside and turned back to her. “I’m going to have to agree. Partially because they don’t typically wear spiked collars, metal bikinis, and is that…” his fingers brushed across the frilly material, “an apron?”

“No,” she pulled away, “I mean, yes, it is an apron—but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“What _are_ you talking about?”

“I’m not _good_ at this… this… girlfriend stuff. Being seductive and sexy.”

Theron glanced at the bizarre getup, and then at the discarded Skytrooper helmet, and then back at his clearly upset girlfriend. “I’m… not following.”

“This whole,” she gestured between the two of them helplessly, “thing. We do. It doesn’t come as easy for me. Do you know what I’m saying?”

At this moment in time, there was nothing more in the world he wanted than to be able to answer that in the affirmative, but he just shook his head slowly. 

Her face crumpled and she tried to hide it behind her hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey,” he reached out gently, pulling her hands down, “don’t… you don’t have to do that. I’m sorry, I was just a little thrown off.” That was an understatement, but maybe a little bit of a white lie wouldn’t hurt in this instance. “Just start at the beginning. I’m listening.”

She blinked at him with wide eyes, expression still caught somewhere between contrition and mortification. “I don’t know what I’m _doing_ , Theron. When we… when we’re intimate.”

“What?”

“I’m not… _good_ at it like you are.”

“I don’t—yes you are.” That thing he’d said about a fool never expecting the unexpected? He was the fool. Clearly. 

“No, I’m _not_ , I’m just… I’m _trying_ , but like… you’re just more experienced than I am, and I know I can’t compete with everyone else who came before me. But I want to make you happy and I just… I was just trying to…”

“Of _course_ you make me happy.”

Without any preamble, he pulled her in close to him. She stiffened for a moment, before he felt her arms wrap around him hesitantly. He decided to ignore the fact that the spikes on the collar she was wearing were poking into his neck, and instead pressed a kiss into the top of her helmet-mussed hair.

“And there has _never_ been any competition. Not for me.”

She pulled out of the hug. “But Kaliyo said—”

“Oh, _of course_ , that explains a lot.” He tried not to growl, but he couldn’t keep the spike of anger from leaking into his tone completely. “I told you not to let her into your head.”

“But… so you’re not into… kinky stuff?”

“Is that what this is?” He stared at her, er, _interesting_ choice of attire again. She gave him a sheepish nod and he let out a shaky laugh. Although he wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry a little bit himself at the moment. “Okay. If it helps, I do not find Skytroopers attractive. At all.”

“Oh, thank the stars,” she breathed. “She kept talking about your Skytrooper foot fetish after that joke you made about the massage and how you were going to get bored with the normal stuff and lea… yeah. Okay. Saying it out loud I realize I overreacted a little.”

Theron wasn’t going to argue with that. Although he wasn’t going to agree with it out loud either. 

“For the _record_ ,” he said, “you are _not_ boring. In any sense of the word.” He poked at one of the spikes on her collar, and a fresh splash of color rushed to her cheeks. “Also, while we’re talking about this, spiked leather? Not really my thing.”

“Good to know.” She laughed weakly. “And the metal bikini?”

Theron shrugged at that one, neither confirming nor denying anything. It earned him a playful shove, and was so natural and expected and _her_ that a wave of relief washed over him. This. This was his normal. His goofy, well-meaning girlfriend who apparently cared enough about him that she’d gone way, _way_ out of her comfort zone for his sake. And it explained _so_ much about the past few days.

“So… is this why you’ve been avoiding me the past few days?”

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” she said quickly, “I was just… trying to get advice.”

Theron eyed her ensemble again, a hint of suspicion. “Have you… been talking about our sex life with people?”

“No!” She said quickly. “Not at all—just—I didn’t know what qualified as like. Kinky. And I wasn’t going to ask Kaliyo. And the HoloNet was no help, so I was just… asking casually? I’m sure no one made the connection.”

“Koth slugged me in the shoulder,” he said simply.

“Oh. Oh no. I’m so sorry,” she said quietly. “The leather was his idea. You know, I think he and Lana were once—”

“Ah ah ah,” Theron quickly cut her off, “let’s not give me a mental image I’ll never be able to scrub out of my brain. I’ve got plenty at the moment.”

She winced, and tried to surreptitiously push the Skytrooper helmet out of sight. “That’s probably fair. Everyone’s advice was just so all over the place I got a little overwhelmed and just. Kind of combined it.”

“Wait.” He studied her with apprehension, a slow horror dawning on him. “Does that mean the conversation you were having with Valkorion…?”

“Oh stars,” she moaned, “I had just forgotten that.”

“The evil ghost trapped in your head was trying to give you the sex talk?”

She cringed at the memory. “More… pointers. He has some for you too.”

“Forget it,” he intoned flatly. “I can go without sex advice from Creepy Uncle Valkorion, thank you very much.”

“You and me both.”

“All right, so I’m assuming Hylo was another one of your advisors. Please tell me she’s not the one with the sexy maid kink.”

“No, no, not at all,” she assured him. “I mean, she had some really raunchy stories about her and some old Devaronian ex of hers. Which I will not repeat.”

“Thank you.”

“But she kind of had some good advice I guess,” Grey added after a moment. “She said to just be comfortable and not worry too much. Just stick with what works.”

“So,” Theron asked cautiously, “is there something that… does work for you?”

“I mean,” she said, ears starting to turn a little pink again, “sometimes your voice gets really low and deep. And that’s nice. Or sometimes you hold my hand and look at me a certain way and… I know that’s not exciting. Too plain and simple.”

“Hey,” he said, intentionally letting his voice drop an octave as he covered her hand with his, “sometimes simple works.”

She let out a little snort, caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation, and just looked up at him with a small, fond smile. A familiar little ball of warmth flickered inside of him at the sight.

“For future reference,” he said, “that’s all you have to do.”

“But I didn’t do anything.”

“ _Exactly_.” Her smile blossomed in full, and he pressed a simple, chaste kiss to her lips. “Can you promise me one thing? Okay, two things.”

“What’s that?”

“Next time you need advice on this stuff… just ask me.”

She shifted a little uncomfortably. “It’s hard. Sometimes.”

“I won’t laugh. _Ever_. I promise.”

“Okay.” She nodded after another moment’s hesitation. “What’s the second thing?”

He tugged at her ridiculous, mismatched outfit and was unable to suppress a genuine smile from forming. “Please, don’t _ever_ stop being you.”


End file.
